


The Plus One

by silvereye5



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Jealous Harry, M/M, Severus Has A Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereye5/pseuds/silvereye5
Summary: Severus asks for a plus one on his invitation to Harry's birthday party.Harry is fine with that. Of course, he is. Why wouldn't he be?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The author does not give permission for this work to be published, shared, quoted, or read in any other forum.

Rain pounded against the front windows of the little cafe. Wind shook the little bushes that lined the bottom of the glass, making the branches scritch and scratch across the pane. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. Given all the racket, Harry knew he must have misheard Hermione.

“A plus one?”

She licked muffin crumbs from the corner of her mouth and said, “That’s when you invite-”

“Hermione, I know what a plus one is.” Harry crossed his arms and bent forward over the tabletop. “Severus Snape asked for a plus one?”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley and I sent him an invitation to your birthday party, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And he sent an owl back asking if he could bring a plus one.” Hermione dusted her fingers and reached for her latte. “It’s quite polite of him, really.”

“Yeah.” Harry scratched his eyebrow. “Severus Snape, though?”

“Yes, Severus Snape.” Hermione shook her head and scrunched her brow. “Why not Severus Snape?”

“People don’t like him.”

“You like him well enough.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Harry chuckled, a little. “He’s my friend.”

“Ok. Well, your friend wants to bring a date to your birthday party. What’s the problem here, Harry?”

“Nothing.” Nothing was _wrong_ about Snape bringing someone. Nothing was _wrong_ with him dating. Snape was free to do as he pleased. He’d been free to do so ever since Harry had worked to clear his name after the war. Harry frowned. “I don’t know. It’s just strange is all, isn’t it?”

“Friends are usually happy when their friends date. Remember when Ron and I got together? You hugged us both and offered us Grimmauld Place.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and spread his arms wide. “That was different.”

“How?”

“You’d been circling round each other for ages.”

Hermione sighed. “I am sure that Severus would appreciate your support.”

Harry drummed his fingers on the table and gnawed on his bottom lip. “Of course, I will be supportive.” Harry pulled his own half empty latte closer. “If the person is right for him.”

Hermione huffed. “You don’t get to decide that, Harry.”

“I’m his friend. You just said.” Harry sipped his drink. “A good friend looks out for their friend. Makes sure they aren’t making a mistake.”

Hermione’s eyes locked on Harry, scanning him from the tips of his messy black hair to the tips of his fidgety fingers. “Of course, friends do, and you are a good friend. Aren’t you, Harry?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I am.”

Hermione nodded and turned her cup in circles, around and around. 

“Have something to say, Hermione?”

Hermione watched her cup go round and shook her head. “Will you be bringing a plus one?”

“You know I won’t.”

Harry’s romantic life was mostly nonexistent. He worked long hours as an Auror. Longer than most people were willing to endure. At least the people that Harry met anyway. He’d dated Ginny right after everything ended, the Battle and the trials. She was a mess and he was a bigger one. They fought constantly. Constantly. When she finally ended things, Harry had never felt such freedom. Not even after defeating Voldemort. He hadn’t bothered much with dating after Ginny. His life was plenty full with training and work and the occasional dinner with friends. 

Friends like Severus Snape. Severus Snape who now had a plus one. Severus had never had a plus one before. Severus Snape did not date, as far as Harry knew.

Hermione was looking at him again. He shook his head and turned to look at the rain. It ran down the window in little rivulets, twisting and turning and meeting and parting in an ineffable pattern. 

“So,” Harry started. “What other plans do you and Mrs. Weasley have for my birthday?”

Hermione smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She gave Harry one last searching look before she launched into talk of menus and music, decor and guests. Much to Harry’s chagrin, his twenty-fifth seemed to be shaping up to be quite the shindig. 

******

Harry adjusted the takeaway bags over to his left hand and knocked with his right. Severus lived in a flat in London, south of the river, in Clapham. He lived near a Tube line, which was nice, because Harry had taken to riding the Tube over Apparating or flooing, at least around London. He had an oyster card and everything. Harry could hop on the Northern Line near his place and be at Severus’ in thirty minutes. Forty, if he stopped for dinner, like he’d done today. Like he did most Saturdays before heading towards Severus’.

The door popped open and Harry pushed his way inside. The front room, a cozy little sitting room with a telly and bookshelves, was empty so Harry called out, “Severus?”

“In here.” 

Harry dropped the bags off on the coffee table and followed Severus’ voice around the corner to his kitchen. Severus’ flat wasn’t palatial or anything, but he’d used his inheritance from Dumbledore to good effect. He had a nice view of Larkhall Park out his living room and a kitchen spacious enough to use as a potions lab, with the proper ventilation charms dutifully applied. What should have been a little dining nook had been appropriated for an office space. A table littered with scrolls and books and quills and ink sat in the middle. A tall perch rested in the corner with a brown owl, Pratchett, asleep on top.

Pratchett had probably conveyed messages back and forth between Severus and his Plus One. Harry gave the bird a squinty stare before turning into the kitchen. 

Harry saddled up next to Severus at the counter and looked down inside the cauldron the man was currently adding some purple flower petals to. 

“Skele-gro,” Harry said.

Severus clicked his tongue. “Fever draught.” 

Harry hummed. “It’s the same color as Skele-gro.” 

“Fever draught,” Severus reached over and lifted the stirring rod out; the potion oozed down its length and back into the cauldron, “is much thicker.” 

Harry watched as the flowers dissolved and the potion took on the slight sheen of the fever draught he currently had in his own medicine cabinet at home.

Severus tapped the counter and the fire beneath the brew flickered off. He waved his hand and a crate of vials floated over to settle next to the cauldron. Severus swished his hand and the extra bits of ingredient disappeared. Another flick and the potion began filling each vial. All wandless. Harry smirked. The man really was a magical wonder. 

“What did you bring for us to eat tonight, Potter?”

“Indian.”

Severus liked Indian food. Of all of the various cuisines Harry’d brought over, Indian seemed to be eaten up with the most alacrity. Harry had endured plenty of trial and error coming to this conclusion, and in compiling a list of go-to foods for keeping Severus fed up. 

Severus refused anything with seafood. He had a wicked sweet tooth that he tried to keep secret. He was allergic to strawberries. He only ate lunch if forced or coerced. Potatoes, in any form, but especially roasted, were his favorite food.

Harry opened a cupboard to pull out plates while Severus opened the fridge and grabbed two beers. They made their way to the living room, where they always ate together, and plopped down onto their respective chairs. Well, Harry plopped, Severus folded his limbs down gracefully. 

Severus inhaled deeply through his great nose and then bent forward to begin unwrapping the aloo tikka and garlic naan, and unboxing the chicken korma and tandoori lamb. Harry uncapped the beers and placed one in front of each of them. 

All of this happened while Severus complained about a demanding owl order customer he’d had that day. The lady had wanted a Hagrid sized dose (Severus’ words) of some depilatory brew sent over within the hour. 

“I told her to go to Slug and Jiggers if she wanted fast and cheap,” Severus continued while piling a helping of korma on top of his aloo tikka. After filling the plate, he settled back in his seat, crossed his legs, and began eating. Severus hummed in appreciation and Harry smirked down into his own plate of food. 

“You tell her, Severus. Who’s she think you are? Stanley Cogar?”

Severus snorted, then glared at Harry for making him do so. 

Harry hid his grin behind a piece of naan.

Severus didn’t wear robes around his flat, and he’d taken to a more open neckline since Nagini ravaged that particular bit of his body. It turned out Severus Snape was quite fit beneath all those robes. Not like a bodybuilder or anything, but he was lean and strong. His legs went on for days. Harry couldn’t help following the line of muscle up his thigh, from knee to hip. The fabric of his trousers had stretched so tightly across Severus’ leg when he’d crossed them, Harry couldn’t not look. The sleeves of his button up had been rolled to his elbows and Harry could see the flex and release of the muscles in his forearms as he ate.

Harry liked this relaxed version of Severus Snape. It was certainly less intimidating than the Hogwarts Potion Master version. Did the Plus One get this version of Severus too? Harry kind of always thought he was the only one that saw this side of Severus. The man still layered the robes on when he was out and about in the Wizarding world. It was only here, and when they went out to Muggle places, that Severus dressed down like this.

Harry set his mostly still full plate down and picked up his beer. 

“Not hungry tonight, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “Had a weird day.”

Severus speared a bit of chicken and a sliver of onion. “You don’t work on Saturdays.”

“Met with Hermione for coffee,” Harry said. “Talked about plans for my birthday. The Weasleys are throwing a party for me.”

Severus paused in gathering another forkful of food. “I heard.”

Harry nodded.

“What’s so strange about a birthday? They come around every year. The Weasleys have never let one pass without celebrating.”

“More people are coming this year than usual.”

Severus chewed and tilted his head to the side. “You’ll manage, I’m sure.”

Harry pressed his lips together. “I don’t much care for large groups of people.”

“You’ll know everyone there.”

“Will I?”

Severus put his plate to the side and picked up his drink. Harry watched his lips push and pull and part as he ran his tongue, first, over his teeth and then out to each corner of his mouth and then, finally right across the bottom lip. “Why wouldn’t you?” He took a swig from the bottle. “The Weasleys wouldn’t invite Ministry arseholes or random sycophants.” 

Harry hesitated. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he didn’t want to be the one to bring up Severus and dating. If Severus had something to share, he should share it himself. They really were friends, after all. “I need another drink. You want?”

“Yes, please. Thank you ever so much for offering me my own alcohol in my own home.”

Harry tossed a, “yeah, yeah,” over his shoulder as he went to the kitchen to fetch two more bottles. His fingers curled around the handle of the fridge and he began to pull when he saw it. Spelled to stick to the door, there was the invitation to his birthday party. 

The one Severus received from Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. 

The one Severus looked at, saw Harry’s name on, and thought of some other person he wanted to bring. His Plus One.

Harry’s molars mashed together and he yanked the door open harder than he meant to, sending all the condiment jars lining the door clinking together. 

Severus had picked his plate back up by the time Harry circled back to his seat. He floated one bottle to sit besides Severus’ other half drunk one and he opened his own before settling back in his chair. 

“So tell me,” Severus said. 

Harry raised his eyebrows and made a questioning grunt.

“Tell me what was ‘weird’ about your coffee with Granger.”

Harry laid his head against the back of the chair, rolling his neck until he was looking at the ceiling. Harry sighed. He glanced at Severus through his bottom lashes. “She asked me if I was bringing a date.” He lifted his head. “You know I hate when she meddles.”

Severus hummed. “Are you?”

“Am I?” Harry scoffed. “No.” _Are you?_ It was right there. Right on the tip of his tongue. Harry swallowed it and another swig of his beer. “Where are the playing cards I brought over? I feel like playing cards tonight.”

Severus lifted one brow, likely at Harry changing the subject, and said, “A drawer in the kitchen.” He stood, empty plate in hand, layered Harry’s plate on top of it, and walked towards said kitchen. “I’ll fetch them.”

******

“I didn’t even want a party, you know.”

Ron had his feet propped up on his desk and he picked at his nails with a broken quill tip. “It makes mum happy.”

Harry fiddled with his rank insignia and pouted. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal, mate,” Ron said. “Mum wanted it to be special this year. Invite all your friends over, have a proper do. She did the same when all of us turned twenty-five, Hermione too. Now it’s your turn.” He tossed the quill tip towards the bin. “Just let her.”

“I’m not stopping her.” Harry placed his elbows on his desk and leant a cheek against his fist. “Did Hermione tell you Snape’s bringing a date?”

“She mentioned it, yeah.” Ron grabbed a memo that had just floated his way. “That’ll be interesting.”

“Will it?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s Snape. It’ll be interesting to see who a bloke like that dates.” Ron looked at Harry before asking, “Don’t you think?”

Harry bit his bottom lip, hard. 

“You suppose it’ll be a girl or a guy?”

Harry sat up straight. These were questions he thought only he ever pondered. Late at night when he couldn’t sleep, wracked with dreams of ghosts. Or when he and Severus met up at the Three Broomsticks and people chatted Severus up (those brave, rejected few). Sometimes during idle moments, like when he was a few drinks in, nestled into his chair in Severus’ living room, listening to him talk about potions or strategy or french philosophy (his passions), and seeing Severus come alive. Those moments he wondered what kind of person could have someone like Severus, what kind of person Severus would let have him.

“Someone brilliant, like him, you know, and definitely magically strong- they’d have to be.” Harry nodded. “I bet he wouldn’t much care what the person looked like. When we were at the Memorial Ball two years ago, the new Defense professor, Lightarrow- very pretty- she was all over Severus. Really trying to get a leg over. Severus was completely oblivious.”

Ron scoffed. “Right. So probably a bloke then is what you’re saying.” 

Harry’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think he much cares either way.” 

Ron gave Harry a searching look. “You’ve never asked?”

“No.”

“All these years...relationships, dating, partners...none of that ever came up?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

Ron looked bemused. “You see him all the time though.”

“Yeah. So?”

“You have dinner with him every week.”

“We’re friends.”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry pursed his lips.

Ron continued, “It just seems like a topic that would have come up. Between friends.”

Harry shrugged and stood. “Well, it hasn’t.” He turned to the shelf behind him and pulled out a blank bit of parchment. “It’s not so odd, I don’t think.”

“Oh yeah?” Ron shifted and his feet thunked to the ground. “Who’s Luna dating then?”

Harry’s brow scrunched together. “That Scamander kid.”

“Ginny-”

Harry could see where this was going and shook his head. “Not the same. I was at her and Ben’s wedding.”

“Ah, but the people she dated _before_ Ben…”

Harry threw the parchment on his desk and then himself into his chair. “All blond quidditch players.”

“Yeah, we made fun of her constantly, and you know that because friends talk about their relationships.”

“Ok, but Severus doesn’t date. So there has never been anything to talk about.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get so tetchy. It’s nothing to me anyway. I’m not wanting to date him.”

Harry blinked once, twice, three times. He stared at Ron for an uncomfortable minute then flattened his parchment out, organized his files and ink, and got back to work.

******

Post-War Wizarding society had embraced Muggle versions of psychology and psychotherapy. There were so many people suffering and struggling, and Wizarding society as a whole was trying to be more accepting of Muggle culture. Thus, it was a bit of a done thing, for a while, for witches and wizards to find outlets for their emotions through group therapy, music therapy, animal therapy, and the like.

Severus, as part of his pardon deal, had been required by the Wizengamot to seek out a therapist for evaluation and treatment. He was not tremendously thrilled about the whole thing, but he attended sessions regularly and his therapist had suggested art as an outlet. Thus, Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater and feared Dungeon Bat, took court-mandated painting classes. Every Tuesday afternoon at a little Muggle Studio in Camden.

Harry went with him. Mostly to show his support, but also, Harry had a genuine interest in art. He’d always doodled and drawn growing up. Scrap paper and broken crayons and stubby pencils weren’t usually confiscated by the Dursleys.

“Severus, Harry,” Madeline greeted them as they walked in. Madeline taught classes in a way that reminded Harry of Hagrid. She loved what she was doing intensely and wanted everyone to feel the same, but she hadn’t quite figured out how to put that love into words yet. She only did it part-time. During the day, she was a barista. Harry had partaken in her coffee. She was much better at making cappuccinos

Harry smiled and waved; Severus flapped his hand in a vague sort of return greeting. They made their way to their respective easels. The art studio was near Regent’s Park, off on a little side road, next door to a dingy but delightful Chinese restaurant. The space itself was large and bright with a wall of windows at the front and modern lighting overhead. Completed student canvases were displayed along the left and right walls. The back wall had a door for a toilet and shelves and shelves of supplies. Easels circled the room. The center was reserved for Madeline and, sometimes, a subject they were required to paint.

They didn’t have a physical subject at the moment. Their assignment was to paint something that invoked happiness for the painter. They’d been working on this canvas for the last month. Harry’s work was straightforward. His painting was of Hogwarts at Christmastime. Severus’ work was always more abstract. He hid his meaning behind splashes of color and shape. Happiness for Severus, it turned out, was black and green and gold. Imperfect circles and quick slashes in a chaotic pattern.

Harry watched him as he walked it from where it had been left to dry after last week’s class and placed it on his easel for this week’s session. Harry said, “I like this one, Severus.”

Severus nodded his head and pressed his lips together. He didn’t like to talk about his paintings.

Harry arranged his paint colors before his own easel. 

Severus glanced at Harry’s. “And yours is saccharine, of course.”

“Of course.” Harry grinned. “I like it. I’m going to hang it above the mantle in my living room.” 

Right now there was a mirror above the mantle; it’d come with the flat when he bought it last year. This painting, amateurish as it was, would look better. And it really did make him happy to look at it, with its lush green Christmas trees bedecked with fairy lights, little paint blob people feasting at the long tables. Harry could almost smell roast chicken and peppermint cocoa, evergreen sap and snow.

Harry continued, “Maybe not now. Maybe I will save it for Christmastime.”

“Or.” Severus sat on his stool and adjusted his arse around until he was comfortable and crossed his legs. “You could charm it to change with the season.”

“You can do that?”

“I can’t.” Severus shrugged. “There is likely a book that will tell you how. I saw one at Flourish and Blotts on the subject, if you’d like it.” 

“Thanks, Severus.” Harry smiled. “I would like that.”

Severus’ mouth twitched up at the corners in return. The biggest smile he gave without alcohol involved.

Once, a few New Years back, Harry had managed to get a big rolling bout of laughter out of the man. They had both drank their way through two bottles of red wine and a couple cups of Ron’s holiday eggnog concoction. They were flying pretty high and Harry had nailed, in his opinion and Severus’, an impression of Dolores Umbridge performing The Nutcracker. Hermione had snapped a picture of the event. Harry had stuck it up on his fridge, with wards to protect it after Severus had had a go at it a few times. It was one of Harry’s most prized possessions. 

Harry took his seat and picked up his paintbrush as Madeline started class. She talked about the subjectivity of conveying emotion through art and then let them go to work as she walked around to guide them all through their last ‘happiness’ session. Harry set to adding a few more details to the table settings, maybe a few more bobbles on the trees, stockings over the fireplace. Severus mixed paints, creating a deep shade of red. Blood red. Reminding Harry of when he’d almost lost Severus. Before Nagini’s attack, most of the death Harry had witnessed had been bloodless. Harry thought Severus had died beneath his hands, blood oozing over his fingers. He hadn’t much cared for the color red since that day.

Harry swallowed and watched Severus. His face was relaxed and peaceful as he assessed the color on his palate, his long dark lashes fluttering against his pale skin. His hand wrapped softly around a brush as it mixed and moved the paint. Severus had nice hands, strong but delicate. His fingers were long and knuckly. His ring finger bent oddly in the middle. Severus said he’d broken it fighting as a child and it had never healed properly, even with magic. Harry didn’t like to imagine how viciously the tiny Severus, in his oversized hand me downs, had to have been punching to break a finger that badly. That crooked finger made something tight and protective and hot race through Harry’s gut. Blue veins bulged and shifted with the tendons on the back of Severus’ hand as he gripped the brush, now dipped in red paint, and brought it towards the canvas. 

“Harry.” Madeline leaned over Harry’s shoulder, pulling him from his study of Severus’ hands. She nodded as she took in his canvas. “Lovely, as always.” She smiled. “Such imagination. A scene in a castle? Oh, are those candles floating?”

Harry nodded. Madeline pointed out some shadows and light source issues on the table items, he always missed those little things, and moved over from Harry to Severus.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Yes, yes. I can feel this painting, Severus.”

Severus’ hand twitched where it was adding a line of red along the bottom.

“The colors. The lightness of the application here. I feel the unexpectedness of the happiness. And the black, the depth. And the red you are adding, so heavy, such a strong foundation at the bottom, but it’s the top layer, the final layer.”

Harry searched the painting, taking in everything Madeline saw. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head.

Severus made a humming noise, deep and rumbling. 

Madeline nodded and continued, “Love. I see love.”

Harry’s eyes shot to Severus. 

_The Plus One._

Severus had paled and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly against the scars on his neck. He seemed to be willfully not meeting Harry’s eyes. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the brush again, adding more red. More _love._

Harry looked back at his own canvas. It blurred as his vision shifted in and out of focus. He heard an odd rasping sound and realized it was his own breathing, gone tight and fast. His stomach seemed to be pounding against his heart. His skin felt hot and cold at once. 

He closed his eyes. Squeezed them tight. God, what was wrong with him? He felt sad, of all things, and angry, and, just, more...he didn’t know. His skin felt too small. The room felt too big. There were too many people. The scratch of brushes on canvas and the clink of tools against jars was too loud. 

He stood and walked to the toilet, closing himself inside, away from everything. From Severus and his painting of happiness and love. Harry pushed his glasses up to perch on the top of his head and splashed water on his face. He leaned over the sink for a minute, maybe two, and gathered his composure. He straightened his spine and looked at his face in the mirror. His breathing evened back out, his pulse calmed. He had a frantic look to his eyes, but he blinked once, twice, and pulled it all back in as best he could before turning and walking back out to the classroom.

He felt Severus eyes on him as he walked back to his stool. Severus’ head turned and he watched Harry pick his paintbrush back up, watched him clear his throat and lean in to add a tiny shadow beneath a goblet. 

“Harry,” Severus began, cautious and quiet, “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Harry smiled, his jaw tight. “Of course, yeah.”


	2. Chapter Two

The Burrow hadn’t been this packed since Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Harry was pretty sure about that. The entire Gryffindor portion of the Hogwarts’ Class of 1998 was here. A handful of Order members. His Hogwarts professors. The couple of Aurors Harry got along well with. All of the Weasleys. Plus everyone’s partners and, for a few of them, their children. 

Hermione and Molly had strung fairy lights up around the garden. They’d charmed snitches to flutter around above everyone’s head. Harry chuckled watching Seamus reach up and try to snatch one, hopping around as it moved higher and higher to avoid him. The tent was up in the open space in front of the house, with its walls pulled back and tied to the tent poles. It was the same tall white one that had gone up for the wedding. Molly brought it out for birthday parties now. Now that the Weasleys had grown to include spouses and children and ever wider circles of friends and extended family. People dotted the tables set up inside the tent, and they lingered around the entryways. It warmed Harry to see all of these people. To know that the boy who lived in a cupboard had so many people that cared for him and loved him and that he loved and cared for in return.

As warm as it made him, that neglected boy still struggled to accept this level of attention and he found himself sneaking off to a quiet place under a tree, just out of the reach of the lights of the party. Just to take a breath, a moment. His hiding spot was a few feet from the dance floor, set up between the tent and the garden. The Weird Sisters rang from the speakers set to float in each corner. Harry watched George and Angelina bop around with their toddler Fred, Hagrid and Madame Maxime swayed out of sync with the music, and Parvati and her wife Brianne looked stunning and graceful moving around the dance floor. 

Harry happened to also be in the perfect position to watch the Apparation point for the party. Severus and The Plus One hadn’t arrived yet. The party start time had passed twenty minutes ago. Severus was notoriously punctual, and Harry had spent the last twenty-five minutes pointedly not thinking about what was delaying him. What he’d chosen over Harry and good manners. 

Harry pulled on the sleeves of his robes. Hermione had talked him into buying something more mature for the birthday party. The robes were a forest green, velvet, fitted and modern. He kept it casual under the robes, dark jeans and a grey button up. Hermione had run a tailoring charm over the shirt. It wasn’t as accurate as something done by hand and it was pulling tightly over his chest when he moved. 

Harry was plucking and yanking at it and thinking of making Hermione have another go at the charm when he heard the pop of Apparation.

Severus, finally. Severus looking svelte and strong in modern robes, very much like Harry’s as a matter of fact, except in a deep blue.

And Severus had a man at his side.

The Plus One. 

Taller than Severus by a few inches and much more solid looking. He had short light brown hair and a bright smile plastered across his face. Harry watched as Plus One gawked at everything around him and searched the faces in the crowd. Severus placed a hand on the small of the man’s back and steered him towards the gaggle of professors by the drinks table. Harry watched as McGonagall reacted with pleased recognition. Plus One pulled her into a hug as Sprout clutched his shoulder with a big grin and waited her turn. Severus’ lip curled up on one side as he looked on. Looking like nothing more than old friends reunited. 

Harry’s back teeth nashed; he could hear them cracking against each other. His right hand flexed into a fist, the skin stretching tightly over each knuckle. His pulse pounded in his ears and blocked out the music and the guests. His vision went black at the edges and narrowed down to just Severus and his Plus One. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slicked his palms. The Plus One wrapped an arm around Severus waist as they spoke to the professors and everything in Harry screamed out. 

Mine. 

_ Mine. Mine. Mine. _

Who was this stranger? Who was he to Severus? Why was everyone acting like his presence at Severus’ side was normal? The status quo?

Where was this man when Severus had been arrested seven years ago? When Severus was rebuilding his reputation? When Severus had been in St Mungo’s with Dragon Pox last year? When he’d worked his ass off perfecting Wolfsbane?

Harry is the one that had been there. Harry had testified in his defense. Harry had made sure he ate and slept and left the house every now and then. Harry had sat beside his hospital bed. Harry encouraged him and Harry consoled him and Harry protected him and Harry  _ wanted  _ him. Wanted to be the only one that gave Severus those things.

Harry moved from his hiding spot in a storm of forward motion. This was his bloody party after all and Harry was here and Harry wanted to be at Severus’ side. He stomped across the dance floor. He collided with someone, possibly a couple someones, but he didn’t let that slow him down. He needed to get to Severus and he needed to get to him now. 

Harry drew up to Severus’ other side, the side without the interloper attached. “Severus.” Harry grabbed the man’s bicep. He had to. Had to touch him right now. “You came.”

“Potter,” Severus greeted with a nod of his head. He searched Harry’s face. “Why would I not be here?”

Harry tapped down a smile, shrugged, and looked at McGonagall and Sprout. “Hello, professors. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Harry,” McGonagall said and Sprout echoed. 

The Plus One came around catty corner to Severus, so he could better see Harry, he supposed. Harry thought it put him in better hexing proximity. The Plus One stretched his hand out for a shake and offered his name, “Hello, Harry Potter. I’m Ian Morales.”

Harry looked at the hand and pulled his top lip between his teeth, dragging the skin until it popped free again. He turned to Severus, who was also looking at the outstretched hand, and then Harry turned to Ian. “Hello, Ian Morales. Welcome to my birthday party.”

The hand continued to dangle there in the air and everyone began to shift on their feet. Harry’s hand tightened where it still gripped Severus’ arm. Severus’ brow scrunched and he followed the imaginary line in the air, from where Harry’s hand should have connected to Morales’ and on up to Harry’s shoulder. Then he met Harry’s eyes, questioning and heated and brief, before he glanced at Harry’s hand gripping his arm and back over to Morales.

McGonagall cleared her throat and Sprout said, “Well.”

Harry let go of Severus and crossed his arms. He met Morales’ eyes, putting all of the power of the Chosen One, the Man Who Defeated Voldemort into his stare.

Morales swallowed and pulled his hand back to scratch at his chin. He grinned then, awkward and slightly canted up on one side, and he chuckled. He looked at Severus, and adjusted the arm he had wrapped around the man’s waist, pulling him in even closer. Morales said, “Uh, thank you for inviting me, Harry.” 

_ Harry.  _ The fact that he had an American accent filtered through Harry’s annoyance. “Well, I didn’t invite you. Severus did, if Hermione is to be believed, and she usually is.”

Morales tilted his head to the side. “Nonetheless. Happy birthday.” He cleared his throat. “Twenty-five, yeah? Severus said before we left his place.”

“Yeah.” Harry sucked on his canine tooth. “How old are you then?”

Ian scoffed, like he was amused by Harry. “Is it some kind of contest?”

“One you’d win, right? I mean, you’ve got to be...what? Sixty? Sixty-five?”

“Potter,” Severus said through clenched teeth.

“I’m fifty-two,” Morales said. “Not so much older than Severus.” He smiled and his teeth were so bloody white Harry wanted to knock them out of his head. “I’m assuming that is what you were getting at.”

“I wasn’t getting at anything.” 

“You sure?” Ian asked, cocky. 

Harry ran his tongue across his lips, one quick swipe. 

Ian said, “I am getting the distinct impression that you don’t like me much.”

“I don’t even know you.” Harry answered. “You just showed up at my birthday party.”

“He is with me, Potter.” Severus turned his body to face Harry. “What is wrong with you?”

“You brought a date to my birthday party, Severus. A  _ date. _ ”

Severus looked gobsmacked, boggled. Speechless. He stared at Harry, eyes wide and mouth open. 

“Why would you do that?” Harry’s voice cracked. Why had it done that? He cleared his throat and clenched his hands into fists. 

Severus shook his head. 

Harry’s breath came out in hard puffs through his nostrils. There was the rustle of fabric as everyone around them shifted about. But Severus stayed silent. 

Severus was staring at Harry, staring at him like he wanted to set him on fire. Harry met Severus’ eyes and swallowed. Why had Harry asked him that?  _ What was wrong with him? _

“Well,” Ian said. He turned to Severus. “Would you like to dance?”

Harry knew he was behaving badly. That he wasn’t being a good friend. That it had taken a certain kind of bravery, the only one that Severus wasn’t intimately familiar with, to bring someone important to him, a date, out in public like this, to meet his friends and his colleagues. But Harry couldn’t stop. All he knew was acid burned his stomach, right at the core of him, and raced up out of his mouth, and he needed Severus to hurt, to  _ feel _ , whatever it was that Harry was feeling.

He met Severus eyes and smirked. “Are you going to have twirl around the dance floor, Severus? To Celestina Warbeck? With your boyfriend?” 

“Why not?” Severus’ voice was deep and rumbling. His eyes never leaving Harry’s. “Ian, dancing. Now.”

Morales pulled him to the dance floor, Harry’s eyes following him through the whole journey. Morales stopped in the center and grooved around a bit; Severus crossed his arms and watched. Harry’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. Morales didn’t know the first thing about what Severus wanted. Then the song changed and something slow and romantic came on. Morales smirked at Severus and tugged on his arms. Tugged and tugged and tugged, until, finally, Severus relented. Harry watched it happen. Watched Severus soften and give in. His arms unfolded and his hands reached out to grip Morales offered hips. Morales wrapped his arms around the stiff shoulders in front of him and pulled Severus to him. He placed his mouth to Severus ear and whispered and grinned and smirked and murmured as they swayed to the music. Severus had a wildness about his look, like he didn’t quite understand how or why he’d gotten where he was, but when he caught Harry’s eyes, his narrowed and he committed to the dance. 

Harry’s hands fisted at his sides, the nails digging deep grooves into the skin of his palms. He was trembling. He felt the fine tremors shaking his limbs and he gasped. He thought for a moment he would start crying. He cleared his throat, wetly. He oscillated, foot to foot, and blinked. 

“Harry Potter.” McGonagall’s tone was chastising.

Harry swallowed and turned to her. 

“That was not well done of you.”

Harry nodded and then shook his head. “I didn’t-”

McGonagall rolled right over him. “You are meant to be his friend.”

Harry pressed his lips together and sniffed.

“You will apologize.”

Sprout nodded her agreement beside her.

Harry stepped back, once, twice, and turned around and collided with Neville. They bounced off each other, Harry with a bit of a hiccup in his startled huff and Neville with an apology on his tongue. 

“Harry!” Neville grabbed Harry’s biceps in each hand. “Why didn’t you tell me Ian Morales was coming to your party?”

Harry blinked. 

“Ian Morales. That man with Snape.”

Harry’s face scrunched and he looked to where the pair were still dancing. “You know that bloke?”

“Of course! He is famous.” At Harry’s blank look, Neville continued, “He is a world renowned research herbologist. He is ridiculously brilliant. He spent two years in Antarctica studying the pearlwort moss there. It revolutionized the study of cold weather fauna and their use in potions for burn victims…” Neville went on, endlessly it felt like, about Morales’ award-winning work in this field and his progressive work in that field. There seemed to be nothing green and leafy that Morales hadn’t furthered the study in, hadn’t given the world new knowledge of, found new uses for, and on and on and on. 

Harry crossed his arms, hugging himself tightly. 

This was the kind of person that could have someone like Severus. Someone just as brilliant and bold and brave as him. 

Harry swallowed. “Thanks, Neville. I’d never met him so...I didn’t know all that.”

“Oh, I thought since Snape brought him, you must have known him too.”

“No.”

“They seem so chummy.”

“Yeah. He’s his date.”

Neville’s nose wrinkled. “His date? I thought you and Snape were, you know, dating.”

“No.”

Neville mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. Harry pursed his lips and turned away from Neville. He walked far away from the scene of the crime and then walked a little further.

_ Neville thought he’d been dating Severus. _

The tail end of the conversation slammed into Harry and he froze.

_ Severus Snape dating Harry Potter.  _

Neville had thought that and just gone on with his life. Like that reality wouldn’t be earth-shattering, world-altering.

Did other people think that?

Harry turned around where he’d stopped at the edge of the party. Harry took in the other people there. Ron, Rose on his hip gnawing a biscuit, was watching Severus with a frown. Beside them, Ginny was giving Harry a sad smile. George was looking between Severus and Harry with a furrowed brow. Hermione on the Weasley’s front porch, platters of food floating behind her, looked torn between going to Harry and continuing on her way to the tent.

_ They knew. _

Harry’s attention was drawn back to Severus. Morales still whispered things against his ear. Severus still had his fingers digging into the man’s hips. They were still swaying, not so elegantly, on the dance floor. Severus was stiff and stumbling. From where Harry watched, he looked like he was trembling. A quick turn had him facing Harry and Harry could see that his face was white and pinched and angry. So angry. His eyes met Harry’s and flared hot and wide. 

The song ended and Severus pulled away. Morales tugged on his arm, trying to make him stay, but Severus shook his head and marched away, towards Harry. Harry straightened and reached out for Severus as he passed. Severus bared his teeth, growled, actually growled, and swept right passed him. Harry turned and watched him disappear into the ether at the Apparation point. Harry closed his eyes and took a breath. When he opened them, Morales was in front of him. Hovering over him with his arms crossed. His eyes judging and hard.

Harry pressed his lips together, feeling scrawny and pale and brittle in Morales’ shadow. 

“Severus always said you were an idiot.”

Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Always, huh?”

Morales nodded. “I’ve known him awhile. I was one of his mentors when he was pursuing his mastery. Then after, we were friends, of a sort.”

“He’s never mentioned you.”

Morales hummed. “I haven’t been the greatest friend recently. A long recently. I was looking to rectify that.” He shrugged. “Maybe move the boundaries to include something more.”

A growl of his own built in the back of Harry’s throat. 

“Not everything is meant to be.” Morales said. He looked Harry up and down and then stepped back and around Harry. “I wouldn’t let this linger. Severus has a habit of letting emotions grow and ferment.”

“I know that.” Harry snapped. “I’m the one that’s been here for him. Me.”

Morales smiled, not quite reaching his eyes. “Happy birthday, all the same, Harry Potter.”

Harry stayed quiet. Morales nodded and followed Severus out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this update took so long. I have moved my entire household 4000 miles across the world since my first posting. I knew it would be complicated, but it became more complicated than expected and fic writing fell to the back burner. I decided to split this chapter. The last chapter will hopefully be up soon!


	3. Chapter Three

Dazed. Distracted. Lost.

Harry spent the remainder of his birthday party ever so slightly (alright, completely) out of it. 

He was fairly certain he was in love with Severus Snape. 

No. 

He was certain. Absolutely certain.

He loved Severus Snape.

He was in love with Severus Snape.

He couldn’t remember the when or how of it, but he knew it anyway. 

And the party continued on around him. People danced, they ate, they wished Harry a happy birthday. Some with a tinge of something like pity in their eyes. It all happened to Harry in a distant way, like there was a fog between him and the rest of the world.

His mind kept settling back into the memory of Severus’ face as he stormed out. The look of betrayal and anger.

And hurt. The way he held himself so stiffly, lashed out out of spite, and tracked Harry’s every movement with heat in his eyes. Harry had hurt him. 

Which meant Harry was inside Severus’ head and heart too. Had to be to be able to pinch and pull and hurt him back.

Harry breathed in deeply and looked around. He was sitting at a table beneath the tent, music tinkling on in the background. The lights still twinkling above the garden. Mr Weasley and Bill were dismantling tables and folding chairs. Mrs Weasley was taking Rose for a final spin around the dance floor. And Ron sat at Harry’s left and Hermione at his right. 

Harry swallowed, cleared his throat. “Guys, I think.” He licked his lips. “I think I love Severus.”

Ron scoffed and gave Harry’s knee a pat. Hermione put an arm around his shoulders. 

“And I think I messed it up,” Harry continued.

Ron nodded. “He looked pretty hacked off when he left.”

Harry turned his head to Hermione. 

“Harry.” She squeezed his shoulder. “What happened?”

So he told them. About Severus and his date. How it made feel. His jealousy and his ugly response. Severus leaving, upset and so angry. 

“Do you think Morales went to Severus?” Harry pinched the tablecloth between his thumb and pointer finger. “After?”

“Brave man if he did,” Ron said.

Harry pressed his lips together. They could be together right now. Morales could be consoling Severus, telling him he could do better than Harry Potter. Morales could be leaning close, whispering things in his ear. He could be… Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

Hermione placed a hand on his forearm. “What are you thinking, Harry?”

Harry pulled a breath in through his nostrils and opened his eyes. “I’m thinking...I’m brave.”

Ron smirked and Hermione smiled.

Harry stood up. “And it is my birthday.”

Hermione and Ron stood with him, nodding. 

“Okay.” Harry took a deep breath. “I’m going to go tell Severus Snape that I love him.” 

Ron whistled through his teeth. “Good luck, mate.”

Hermione steered Harry in the direction of the Apparation point. “This is far from your worst idea, Harry. I promise.”

Harry nodded and inclined his head to one side. “That is actually very reassuring. Thank you.”

Harry stepped away and turned to look back at his friends. They all nodded at each other one last time. Hermione gave him a thumbs up, and Harry spun on the spot, focusing on the hallway just outside of Severus' flat. 

He only stumbled a half step on arrival. He glanced around to be sure he hadn’t been seen by any neighbors and then knocked. Sweat began to prickle under his arms. Harry pulled at his too-tight shirt and tried to get a bit of air on his skin. He flattened his fringe then fluffed it back up. 

He knocked again.

Harry blew out a quick breath. He thought about taking his robe off, maybe that would help. He flattened his fringe to the side.

He raised his hand to knock a third time, paused, and beant his ear towards the door. Silence. Maybe Morales was in there. Maybe Severus might be ignoring Harry entirely. Maybe he hadn’t even come home at all. 

No. Harry could feel Severus in there. Right at the edge of his senses. His dark, smoky, familiar magic. Roiling and agitated at the moment.

Harry knocked a third time. He leaned close against the door and said, “Severus.” He didn’t exactly whisper. It was only 11 o’clock on a Saturday and he wasn’t overly worried about waking people, but he knew Severus wouldn’t want him making a scene. “Severus, I want to apologize.”

No response. 

He knocked a fourth time. “Severus. I...” He dug his teeth into his bottom lip. “I have something I need to tell you.”

Harry tugged at his shirt again and glanced to his left, and then to his right. He was starting to feel awkward talking to a door. 

A fifth time. Louder now, he said, “Severus, please.”

Harry laid both hands against the door. The slick, lacquer paint was cold against his sweaty palms. He was halfway towards resting his forehead next to the peephole when the lock snicked open and the door rushed away from beneath Harry. In its place stood an irate Severus, robes gone, hair tangled and disheveled, arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

“Oh, thank fuck, Severus.” Harry crossed the threshold and rounded the man, barely resisting the urge to reach out and grab him, to just touch him. Instead, Harry pressed his hands together and raised them against his lips. “Severus. I am so unbelievably, ridiculously sorry.” 

Severus shoved the door closed and faced Harry. “Go on.”

Harry swallowed. “I was a complete arse to you and to your...you know.”

Severus pressed his lips together and raised one solitary eyebrow.

“I was just, just a total twat.”

“True.”

Harry laughed, quick and nervous. “I really am so fucking sorry. I don’t even know why-” Harry shook his head and wet his lips. “No, that’s a lie. I know why.”

Something pinched in Severus’ face. His adam apple bobbed against the white and pink skin of his throat. He crossed his arms more tightly, hugging himself. He sent a baleful look Harry’s way and moved further into the room, walking behind the sofa and putting it between Harry and himself.

Harry followed him. “When I found out you were bringing someone to the party, it was like, like something scratching beneath my skin. And, you have every right, every right to bring someone. To date someone.”

Severus’ brows drew together.

“Obviously,” Harry added.

And Severus echoed, his voice hollow. “Obviously.”

“Because we weren’t-”

Severus’ shoulders curved forward and his arms shifted higher, wrapping tightly around his ribs. His hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

Harry moved in closer to him. “-weren’t together like that. And I have no idea...no idea how you felt- how you feel,” Harry shook his head. “I didn’t even really understand myself, my feelings.”

Severus froze, every muscle going taut and still.

“I just knew I was bothered,” Harry barreled on. “And you have never acted as if...and I had never even thought. I just knew that I liked being here, with you. And just being with you in general, I suppose. And then there was your painting. The one you did of Morales.”

Severus interrupted, lowly, in almost a whisper. “What painting of Morales?”

“The happiness painting.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “You looked at that painting and saw Ian Morales?”

“Well, yes. I mean not at the time, not exactly him. But it was love and happiness, and I knew you were with someone, or bringing someone that meant something. And it hurt, and I didn’t understand why. It’s just, the painting it was,” Harry shook his head. “It was someone else and it stung. Because it wasn’t, you know, me that you were painting pictures of.”

Severus’ nostrils flared and he blinked, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. His hands tightened and loosened rhythmically, the fabric pulling taut against his chest and releasing again.

Harry took two steps forward. “I’m rambling, I know. I just…” Harry cleared his throat. “Okay. I wanted to tell you I was sorry, and then that I, you know, like you. Probably, um, more than that. No, absolutely more.” Harry smiled, the corners of his shaking. “But I wanted to know, to be sure, because I think maybe- I would never have come and said anything if I didn’t think you could- That you maybe like me back.”

“Shut up.”

Harry swallowed. “Okay.”

“I only understood a quarter of what just came out of your mouth.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m nervous.”

Severus nodded. He released his shirt to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me attempt to summarize, as best as I can, from that god awful rambling you just subjected me too.”

Harry pulled at his shirt and adjusted his robes.

“You were a total knob because you were jealous of Ian Morales.”

“Yes. I mean, essentially, yes.”

“You,” Severus sneered, “like me.”

Harry bit his top lip and scrunched his brow. He nodded.

“And, you thought I created a painting depicting my deep, abiding love for Ian Morales.”

Harry nodded again. 

“You saw black.” Severus looks pointedly at Harry’s hair. “Green.” Pointedly at his eyes. “And gold and red.” Severus gestured at all of Harry. “And you thought,” he shook his head, “if you thought of anything but yourself, you are an idiot.”

Harry sucked in a breath and released a soft, “Oh.”

Severus gave an exasperated grunt.

“I mean, that’s good then. Really good.”

Severus nodded his head, once, quickly, then looked off to the side.

Harry smiled and moved forward to grasp his biceps. “I make you happy.”

Severus rolled his eyes.

Harry’s smile widened. “You make me happy too.”

“Hm.”

Harry ran his hands up Severus’ arms, let them rest on the man’s shoulders. Thought for a moment about pulling him down for something more affirming, but then paused. “Wait, why did you bring someone else to my birthday party then?”

Severus pulled away from Harry’s grasp. He walked over to stand next to his armchair and ran his fingers back and forth over the fabric on the arm of the chair. He shut his eyes and sighed, heavy and deep, like he’d pushed every molecule of oxygen from his lungs in one go. Severus sank down into the seat, leant his elbows to his knees, and buried his fingers in his hair. His next words came to Harry muffled. “Harry. Harry, I cannot.”

Propelled forward, Harry came to kneel in front of Severus.

Severus’ eyes were still shut between his spread fingers, his hair falling between each one in thick tendrils. He continued, “Whatever romantic nonsense you have cooked up in that head of yours, it cannot happen. You cannot be with me.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “Why? Because I’m _Harry Potter._ Bloody Boy Who Lived.”

“No, because you are Harry. You are my friend. You are good, and you are beautiful, and you are young. You have infinite potential and a wide open future and you will not waste any of it on me.”

A sob rose in Harry’s throat and he choked against it. “God, you are so ridiculous.”

Severus turned his face against his palm. What little Harry could see of his face was stiff and fraught, and Harry could not take it anymore. He wrapped his fingers around Severus’ wrists and tugged them away from Severus' face, tugged them apart. Gently, slowly, he rose up off his knees and shifted his body between Severus arms. Harry buried a knee between one bony hip and one chair arm. 

Severus, eyes still squeezed tightly shut, whispered, “Harry. Stop.”

But his hand pulled from Harry’s grasp and came to rest lightly on Harry’s thigh, fingers twitching ever so slightly towards himself, encouraging Harry forward not backward. Harry buried his other knee between Severus' opposite hip and chair arm. Severus' other hand came up to again twitch against Harry’s thigh. 

Harry watched the face before him, held so tightly closed and carefully still. Harry swallowed and leant his forehead against Severus’. “I can stop. You can tell me to stop.”

Severus made a whimpering sound in the back of his throat. 

“I’d rather not though.” Harry placed his lips against Severus’. “I just...let’s just try, yeah?” 

Harry tensed his lips and kissed the line of Severus’ mouth. He did it again and again, feather light. With each peck, the fingers wrapped around Harry’s thighs tightened. 

Harry tilted his head, lining the side of his nose up with the side of Severus’. He kissed that mouth again, but lingered this time, waiting. The lips beneath his twitched and loosened. Harry’s tongue swept out to lick his own lips, moisten them before going in again, and it caught on the corner of Severus’ mouth. Severus' hands shifted from Harry's thighs, up and up, dragging his robes with them, until they came to bracket Harry's hips. Harry’s tongue swept out again, purposefully teasing at Severus’ lips this time. Severus' hands clenched and unclenched around Harry's hips. Harry kissed Severus again, pressing in with more force, more intent, beseeching entry. 

Severus groaned, his hands tightening and pulling Harry forward, belly to belly. His mouth finally kissing back, tongue meeting Harry’s in the space between them. 

Harry’s hands cradled Severus face, holding his face against Harry's, his fingertips buried in Severus’ dark hair, his thumb running over the sharp lines of Severus' cheekbones. Severus’ hands run up the length of Harry’s sides, long fingers digging into the grooves between his ribs before dragging down the muscles on Harry’s stomach. Harry felt them shift and twitch, and something hot and glorious burned low in his gut. He pulled his lips from Severus’ and groaned against the man's neck. Severus’ fingers continued their path downward and Harry pulled back to watch them. 

Severus’ hands were shaking as they ran along the buckle of Harry’s belt. “Harry, I...I want to. Can I?”

Harry licked his lips and nodded. His belt clinked as Severus fiddled the buckle open, the leather creaked and groaned as Severus pulled it free and dropped it over the side of the chair. Harry heard Severus swallow as he grasped the top of Harry’s zip and pulled down. 

Harry shifted backwards and, balancing with a hand on each of Severus’ shoulders, rose up on his knees to give Severus space to tug his trousers and pants down to bunch in the middle of his thighs. Harry still had on his robes and the too-tight button up. The latter of which was doing an admirable job of covering his cock. Severus reached for the top button to begin relieving it of this duty. 

Harry watched the play of emotions that rose and fell across Severus’ face. Severus' eyes tracking his finger's progress down Harry’s shirt, wide with anticipation and want. His lips parted, red and slack, and his breath coming out hot and fast where it met the revealed skin of Harry’s chest. His nostrils flared quickly before he leaned forward to breathe Harry in and press a rough kiss to his sternum. Severus pulled back as he at last parted the shirt, leaving it on Harry’s shoulders so that it, along with his robes, framed his bare chest and cock. 

“Beautiful,” Severus said as he grazed the tips of his fingers from the base of Harry’s throat down and down until they scrapped through the downy, dark hair that trailed from his navel to his groin. “Harry.”

Harry looked up and met his eyes. “Severus.”

“If we do this.” Severus shook his head, moved his hands back to wrap around Harry’s bare hips. “We cannot go back from this.”

Harry bent forward and kissed Severus. He smirked against his lips and said, simply, “Why would I want to?”

Severus’ hands released his hips and buried themselves in the thick hair over Harry’s ears, holding his head there and kissing Harry thoroughly. Once he had Harry breathless, he pulled him back by the same hair, sending that hot surge down Harry’s core again, forcing an open-mouthed moan out of Harry’s parted lips. Severus released Harry’s hair, one hand going to rub circles around his right nipple, the other dancing and scratching it way down Harry’s front, sending the muscles quivering again, before wrapping around Harry’s hard cock. 

Severus had lovely hands, Harry knew, but they looked especially lovely pulling Harry off. Harry’d never had a hand this big touch him. He felt like it was touching all of him at once. Harry’s hips twitched forward and he watched as his cockhead, wet and pink, peeked out from the circle of Severus’ hand. His hips shifted again and again and it forced a grunting noise from his throat. “Oh, god, oh god, Severus.”

“That’s it, Harry.” Severus shifted the hand from teasing at Harry’s pebbled nipples down to gently cradling his balls, one finger teasing backwards along his perineum. “Gorgeous.”

Harry could feel his end coming, tightening low in his belly and spreading heat out along his limbs. And Severus hadn’t a single button on his shirt pulled free; not a sock left lost somewhere under a couch.

Unacceptable. 

Harry stopped the shifting of his hips. Closed his eyes and turned his head from the wonderful sights between his spread thighs. He licked his lips and thought of Quidditch. He blew out a quick breath and turned back to Severus, reaching now for Severus’ shirt. He had one button released when Severus grabbed his wrists and stopped him.

“Harry,” Severus began. The sight of Severus' blown pupils, the color high on his cheeks, his hair debauched, and his lips kiss-swollen, sent out a frisson of delightful heat that made Harry’s cock twitch in the open air. “Harry, focus. You need to understand before you continue. I...I’m not-” He shook his head. “Not beautiful like you.”

Harry kissed him and moved to the next button and the next. He kissed him and kissed him until every button was freed and Severus had quieted and put his delicious hands back on Harry’s bare skin. Harry pulled back and trailed his fingers up and down Severus chest, tracing old white scars and the lines of the lean muscles in his sides. Harry thumbed each nipple until they were peeked and red and tempting. Harry kissed each one and murmured into Severus’ skin. “Perfectly lovely.”

Severus closed his eyes and groaned as his hips bucked up, bouncing Harry hard enough he needed to brace himself with a hand over each of Severus’ pectoral muscles. 

Harry pulled away and stood up. Severus watched with heavy lids. Harry stripped himself of his robes and shirt. “Now yours,” he said to Severus.

Severus shifted up and did as Harry told him, pulling his shirt from his shoulders before reaching for his belt and fly. Harry wiggled until his own slacks and pants could be kicked off along with his socks and shoes. Severus’ hips rose as he tugged the last of his kit down his thighs, over his knees, and kicked them off in the same direction as Harry’s. 

Severus’ cock was long, thick in the middle, and tapering up to a sweetly reddened head. Harry thought about falling to his knees. Taking Severus into his mouth, running his tongue along the ridges of the head, dipping into the leaking slit and tasting the salty precome already lingering there. Maybe next time.

Because there would be a next time. Harry knew that now. This was it. Harry Potter would be Severus Snape’s Plus One for as long as he’d have him. 

Harry climbed back onto Severus' lap and kissed him. Severus devoured his mouth, tongue pushing wetly against Harry’s. His arms were tight around Harry’s middle, keeping them pressed closely together, not a breath of space between their skin. Harry’s cock loved the tight quarters, slick with Harry’s precome and the slight sheen of sweat from both men, Harry’s hips shifted and circled and gave Harry’s cock the perfect amount of friction. 

Severus’ hand dragged down Harry’s back, his nails scratching trails of hot tension in their wake. They came all the way down to each cup one cheek of Harry’s arse. Severus squeezed his handfuls, slightly spreading Harry open with each clench of his fingers. Harry groaned and pulled back. “I’ve never.” He shook his head. “Not with a man.”

Severus hissed and ran his hands lower, fingers edging deeper, closer to his hole. “I’ll show you, Harry.” He kissed his sternum again. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

Harry tilted Severus chin up and kissed him. Harry sighed as Severus’ fingers slid over his hole, whispering a warm slickness over the area with wandless magic. His fingers opened Harry, one finger, then two, then three, thrusting in and out, carefully at first, but faster and harder as Harry’s sighs changed to groans changed to sounds Harry’d never heard himself make before. Loud, steady grunts and bitten off moans, as Harry’s cock hardened and leaked between them. 

Severus bent a finger and Harry’s vision went white. His blood rushed from his head to his cock so fast, he went slightly dizzy and bent forward to rest his forehead on Severus shoulder. Severus pulled his fingers free then, grabbed onto Harry’s hips and shifted him up onto his knees. Harry held himself steady as he watched Severus circle the base of his own cock and line it up with Harry’s hole.

“You are doing so well, my Harry.” Severus pushed his hips up slightly and released his cock, returning his hands to Harry’s hips. “I want to watch you ride me. Watch you fall apart, for me, Harry.”

Harry groaned and rocked his hips. Severus had worked Harry open perfectly, allowing the thick length to ease in past any resistance. Severus left Harry to decide the pace. Harry marveled at the man’s control, somehow staying still beneath him as Harry rose and fell and rose and fell. 

Once Harry felt he had Severus comfortably sheathed, he adjusted his position, leaning back slightly until Severus cock hit his prostate as he moved his hips. Harry moaned Severus' name and babbled. “So good, so good. God, Severus, so good.”

Severus had a solid hold of Harry’s hips, helping him lift and come down at the exact steady pace Harry needed. Severus' breathing was erratic, coming out in hard panting breaths that sent his hair fluttering around his face. “So beautiful, Harry. Perfect.” He hissed and kicked his hips up once to meet Harry. When Harry moaned and increased his pace, Severus pushed his hips up again and again and again. “Come for me, Harry. Come for me. You are there, right there. Come for me.”

The muscles in Harry’s stomach tensed and released as his climax neared. His cock hardened and his balls pulled up. Harry brought his arse down once, twice, three times more on Severus cock before finding his orgasm and coming, hot, white release landing in strips across Severus’ own fluttering stomach muscles. 

“So gorgeous, Harry. So-” Severus quieted as his own climax overtook him. His lips pulled back to reveal his clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed shut and his head thrown back, the long column of his scarred throat presented for a panting Harry to press kisses to and mutter sweet reassuring nothings against as Severus came and came.

They stayed nestled together on Severus’ armchair, their breathing slowly evening out. Severus ran his hands back and forth across Harry’s shoulder blades. Harry circled the small, pebbled areola around Severus’ nipple, moving in closer and closer and watching the center rise to attention. 

Severus captured his hand. “Stop that.”

Harry chuckled and pushed up on his elbows, eye to eye with Severus. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Severus scoffed and released Harry’s hand. “There are worse things, I suppose.”

Harry kissed him.

******

_Three month later..._

Harry shifted the takeaways bags over to his left hand and knocked with his right. It was a bit of a rainy one outside so Harry reached up to ruffle the drops of water out of his fringe. The door popped open and Harry went inside the flat. 

“Severus?” Harry dropped the bags, burgers and chips, on the coffee table in the sitting room. “’s just me.” He pulled his coat off and draped it across the back of the sofa. He rounded the corner into the kitchen. Severus was there, like always, brewing away. Harry smiled and sidled up next to him. “Hello, you.”

The corner of Severus’ mouth tugged up a notch. “What did you bring for dinner?”

“Hungry are you?”

“I could eat.”

“Burgers. Fries.”

Severus hummed. “No tomatoes, I hope.”

“Course not. I know better than that.”

Severus tapped the stirring rod on the side of the cauldron and laid it down on the counter. He turned his head and offered his lips up for a hello kiss, an offer Harry was more than happy to accept. 


End file.
